


Hold My Hand, Hold My Heart

by Frywen



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/M, Female Jaskier | Dandelion, Minor Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Female Character(s), Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence, Rating May Change, but i guarantee both geralt and jaskier are bisexual disasters, this may seem straight, wlw Jaskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28072794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frywen/pseuds/Frywen
Summary: Geralt stares at the girl riding in front of him, talking about—something or another, he isn't sure what. He'd stopped listening hours ago. He's desperately trying to wrap his head around the current situation, around all of this, and especially the girl.Julia, as she'd been introduced.Geralt is pretty confident she'd been under the influence of drugs the day before. The glassy look and dopey smile she’d had is nowhere to be found anymore. Not since the early hours in the morning when they had left the opulent mansion the girl had presumably called home until yesterday.He had expected resentment, anger, apprehension. Anything really but whatever this is.The girl seems almost... happy.ORThe arranged marriage fem!Jaskier AU absolutely nobody asked for.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 25
Kudos: 189
Collections: One Two Switcheroo





	1. in which Geralt acquires something quite unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> This idea wouldn't leave me alone so I thought I'd write a little bit something. 5000+ words and numerous ideas for future chapters later here we are. Oops.
> 
> Thank you for betaing [CuteAsAMuntin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuteAsAMuntin/pseuds/CuteAsAMuntin)

Geralt stares at the girl riding in front of him, talking about—something or another, he isn't sure what. He'd stopped listening hours ago. He's desperately trying to wrap his head around the current situation, around all of this, and especially the girl. 

Julia, as she'd been introduced. 

Geralt is pretty confident she'd been under the influence of drugs the day before. The glassy look and dopey smile she’d had is nowhere to be found anymore. Not since the early hours in the morning when they had left the opulent mansion the girl had presumably called home until yesterday.

He had expected resentment, anger, apprehension. Anything really but whatever _this_ is. 

The girl seems almost... happy. 

"Why did your family want to get rid of you so badly? You're not pregnant, are you?" Geralt interrupts the ongoing babble. The girl, Julia, turns to look at him over her shoulder, dismay written plainly on her face. 

"Master Geralt, I'll have you know I wasn't born yesterday! Pregnant! As if I didn't know any better. Unbelievable!" She continues to mutter her outrage under her breath. She stops her horse and Geralt comes to stand next to her. Her face is vacant as she stares off into the horizon. "As if anyone would want to marry damaged goods..." 

"...what?" Geralt asks, confused. Julia looks down at him as if surprised he's there. 

"Nothing. Let's go, shall we? The more distance we get between us and that shithole the better, right?" The cheer in her voice is entirely forced but Geralt doesn't comment on it. He agrees, the further they get from the girls family, the better. 

"Is there anywhere I could take you?" 

"Oh, so now you want to be rid of me too? Absolutely fantastic, just what I needed." 

Geralt furrows his brow, "No. Life on the Path is dangerous. It's no place for a woman." 

"Oh, didn't you figure that out? That's exactly why my parents did this. A convenient way to be rid of me, slain by some beast preferably faraway from Lettenhove, so they can be like, ’Poor Julcia, taken from us so young, what a terrible way to go,’ and then never think about it again." 

"You're not serious," Geralt says, his brow drawing into a scowl he tries to smooth out immediately. No need to scare the girl on the first day. 

"Well, sending me to the temple of Melitele obviously didn't work. This is cheaper than assassinating me. And for a bonus, they won't get the blood in their hands." 

Geralt stops. 

It takes some time for Julia to notice he isn't following. When she does, she turns to look. 

A shadow passes her face and she looks away. "Yeah, sorry, I know you didn't sign up for this horseshit, Master Geralt." 

Fucking nobles. 

Geralt continues on and Julia follows after him, this time silent. 

They travel at an awkward trot for the rest of the day. When they stop for the night, Geralt realises his error. 

He looks up at Julia, still sitting on her saddle, rubbing the rein between her fingers. She smells nervous and frightened when Geralt steps next to her to help her down. 

She had insisted, the first time they stopped, she could step down from the saddle on her own. She had gotten caught up in her skirts and would have fallen to the ground if Geralt hadn't caught her. 

"I'm not some fucking damsel, fuck! Bollocks!" She had pushed him away from her and he went willingly, not wanting to scare her any more. 

Every time after that he'd helped her down and she'd tolerated it, the tremor of her body, the beat of her heart, the sickly smell of fear giving her away. 

Now though, something seems different. 

"I'm sorry we didn't reach a village. I know this isn't how you've used to sleep." 

"Oh!" She is startled out of her thoughts, "No, I'm... that's not it, I'm fine... I would like to come down now, please..." She gives Geralt her hand but nothing in her posture, nothing in her scent changes. As soon as her feet hit the ground she stumbles but straightens herself quickly, muttering something about stiff muscles. 

Geralt guides her to sit on his bedroll and sets up the rest of the camp. He looks at her from the corner of his eye. She stares at the pile of wood Geralt has already collected, looking as out of place as anyone can. Her wide expensive skirts billow around her, her curls soft blonde ringlets around her face, only a little mussed from the day’s travel. 

Geralt lights the fire with Igni, and she lets out a muffled gasp which makes Geralt look up at her amused. 

"Is that witcher magic?" she asks mystified, looking between his hands and the fire. 

"Yeah. They're called signs." 

"What else can they do?" She leans closer, her eyes full of wonder and curiosity. 

"I'll go hunt. We can talk over dinner." 

"Yeah... yeah, of course." She seems to deflate and turns away from him, fiddling with a seam of her skirts. 

"If anything happens, just shout and I'll come back. I will hear you, don't worry." 

"Thanks." She offers him a small smile of gratitude, her posture relaxing a little. 

Geralt returns with two rabbits to find Julia sitting on his bedroll in nothing but her underwear. The white fabric highlights dark bruises peeking from under the short sleeves in her upper arms and Geralt has a sudden urge to get her to remove the rest of the thin fabric where it pools around her, hiding her body and legs to see where else she's hurt. 

He doesn't. 

He turns away from her and starts to prepare the rabbits without a word if only to avoid looking at the bruises. 

Only after he has put the rabbits to roast does he turn back to Julia.

She has removed the kohl from her eyes and the face paint from her cheeks. Cheeks which are adorned with fingertip shaped bruises on either side of her mouth. 

Fuck. 

"How old are you, Julia?" Geralt asks as he sits a respectable distance away from the girl. 

"One and twenty." There is no lie in Julia's voice. Geralt sighs in relief, at least she's not a child but a young woman. It makes the whole situation marginally better. 

"You can ask me questions," Geralt says as he stands up and fetches his cape from his saddlebags. It's late spring, nights still get cold and he couldn't miss the shiver Julia tried to hide. 

"You promised to tell me about the signs, Master Geralt..."

"Of course." Geralt can entertain the poor woman until he finds a place for her to stay, preferably far away from her family. 

Geralt hands her one of the rabbits once they are cooked and answers her careful questions about being a witcher. 

She pushes the rest of the rabbit away after only a few bites and turns to Geralt. Her hands fiddle with the ribbons over her chest holding the chemise closed. 

"I never thanked you for last night, Master Geralt," she says sombre, her voice small. 

"Last night?" Geralt tries to recall if he did anything worth thanking for the night before but draws a blank. The whole day still feels like a crazy fever dream. If it wasn't for the woman sitting in his camp he'd be sure he dreamt it all. 

"For not..." she searches for words and looks away, "when I was... I was asleep. And you didn't... you could have... but you didn't... thank you..." 

Geralt remembers last night when he was pushed into the bedroom and the door locked after him, Julia splayed on the bed in nothing more than she's wearing now, asleep.

No, not asleep. Unconscious, the drugs given her finally taking their toll. 

"You can now, you know... take what's yours..." Julia's voice brings him back to present, to the woman in front of him loosening the ribbons holding her underwear closed. Her hands shake and she smells... scared, terrified and sure, she was scared before. But it's nothing compared to the pure terror radiating from her now. 

"No." He reaches to take Julia's hand in his and removes it from the ribbons. "I don't fuck people who are terrified." 

Julia looks at him. Her face doesn't twist, doesn't show any emotion. But tears well up in her eyes and overflow, falling down her cheeks and when the first one falls on her hand it's like a spell broken. She draws a shuddering breath and her face twists in agony. Before Geralt can do anything, she buries her face in her hands and wails.

She shoots up, scrambles to the forest, and empties her stomach on the forest floor. 

Geralt follows and supports her when she straightens up, wrapping the cloak tighter around herself.

"Sorry, not my finest moment..." she murmurs turning away from him. 

"Hmm," Geralt agrees and walks her back to the bedroll. "It's been a long day. Go to sleep. We'll get you your own bedroll in the next town." 

Julia takes a sip from the offered waterskin. "Where will you sleep?" She looks up at him and it's not until then Geralt notices the bright cornflower blue of her eyes.

She looks so young, so innocent sitting on the bedroll, wrapped up in his cloak. Geralt has to turn away. She doesn't deserve this life. 

"I'm a witcher. We don't require much sleep." 

"Well, that sounds just miserable. You even gave me your cloak." 

"We'll reach a town tomorrow. Now sleep." 

"...okay..." Julia mutters and lies down. She's asleep only a few minutes later. 

Geralt needs to find a safe place for her. The Path is no place for a woman, let alone one used to a noble life. But where to take her? She doesn't want to become an acolyte of Melitele, but Geralt doesn't know any nobles well enough to pull a favour this size. And he can't just dump her in some backwater village where she doesn't know anyone. 

The money he got should buy her a decent new start in some town, if that's what she wants. But he definitely needs to choose one further away from Lettenhove than two days’ ride. 

As soon as the sun peeks over the horizon, Geralt opens his eyes and his gaze lands on Julia, still fast asleep. It amazes him, someone so terrified of him last night could be so relaxed around him now. 

"Wake up." He nudges Julia's shoulder gently but she curls up and falls back asleep. 

"Wake up. We need to leave soon if we want to reach the town today." 

She sits up and squints up at him, still half asleep. The bruises on her skin are more pronounced than the night before, blooming dark on her pale skin. 

Geralt crouches in front of her, far enough he can't touch but close enough he can see her properly. 

"Do the bruises hurt? Are you hurt anywhere else?" 

"What bruises-?" She asks and glances down her arms, "Ah shite..." She tries to pull her sleeves down but they are too short, unable to cover her arms as much as needed to hide the marks. "I'm fine. You're not required to care for me, Master Geralt." 

"On the contrary, I think that was part of the deal. Are you hurt anywhere else? I won't know if you won't tell me." 

"No, I'm fine," she lies and smiles at him, the smile seeming surprisingly genuine. 

"We'll get you something for the bruises in the next town. I don't have anything with me safe for humans." 

"They'll fade on their own," she starts but closes her mouth as soon as she glances at him. "Sorry... didn't mean to—to argue." 

The air fills with a scent of fear. Not as strong as the night before but strong enough for Geralt to smell. 

He goes to the forest in a pretence of foraging to give her a moment to dress up in modesty. She doesn't need a mutant to leer at her first thing in the morning. 

When he returns she's dressed much more sensibly than the day before, to his surprise. He didn't know noble women owned any sensible clothing. Well, maybe calling the elaborate riding dress sensible is going too far, but at least she can get on the horse and down without tripping on her hem, so it's something. 

They eat and make their way towards the next town in awkward, anxious silence. Geralt can feel Julia practically vibrate with nervous energy but every time she looks at him, she presses her lips together harder. 

It doesn't take long for her to lose it, the words bubbling out of her in an endless stream Geralt finds taxing. But he doesn't comment. He doesn't say anything and tries to keep his annoyance from showing on his face. 

This is a person who is in his company without her will and despite her fear and anxiety she still talks to him. She has talked to him more in these past three days than anyone has talked to him in years and he doesn't want to ruin it. 

Not until he finds a place for her. 

He can't force a woman terrified of him to travel with him, so if the price for her to tolerate his company for the moment is to listen to some mindless babble, he has to endure it for a while. 

They reach the town by nightfall. 

Julia is half asleep on her horse, Geralt leading Pegasus by the reins. They stop by the frankly shady-looking tavern but Geralt knows better than to try to get a room at the better inn. 

He helps Julia down and tells her to wait for him before he steps inside. 

The tavern smells as bad as it looks but still, Geralt makes his way to the bar. The man behind the counter, presumably the owner, ignores him. 

"We don't want your kind here, Witcher." 

Geralt turns around to look at the men gathered behind him.

"I don't want any trouble, just a room for the night and some food." 

"Geralt!" 

There's panic in the voice and the door bursts open. Julia doesn't even look around. Her gaze zooms right into him and she runs to him, her fingers curling into his cloak, blue eyes gazing up at him.

Geralt is utterly baffled. _Why_ would a woman who is scared of him run to him under any circumstances? Sure, he had heard some commotion from the outside but no shouts, no struggle. He hadn't heard her voice at all until she had shouted his name. His name? Out of all the things she should have said. 

"What's the matter?" Geralt asks, looking down at her. 

"Oi, lass! Want to get some real man in you? I bet I can fuck you better than that monster!" 

Julia's eyes drop, fixed on his chest as her hands hold his cloak tighter, her knuckles turning white. 

Geralt turns back to the innkeeper. "A room for me and my companion," he demands and places a few coins on the counter. 

The men behind him continue their leers, and Geralt wraps his arm carefully around Julia's shoulders, hiding her from the view with his cloak. 

The innkeeper looks at the coins and swipes them into his pocket. "Last room at the end of the hall." 

"And the food?" 

"We don't serve your kind, Butcher." The last word is hissed between the teeth, but Geralt doesn't take the bait. 

"For my companion," Geralt clarifies, still holding Julia by the shoulder, the jeers behind him getting louder. This is why he wanted her to wait outside. She shouldn't have to tolerate this kind of behaviour just because she's tied to him for now. 

Julia grips his arm and raises her head to look over his shoulder, a sneer on her face.

"He's a far better man than any of you! You should be ashamed of yourselves, spouting such unfounded bullshite out of your stupid mouths! Why won't you just shut the fuck up and let us stay here in peace, wankers?!" Julia shouts, anger radiating from her, and Geralt takes half a step in front of her—to shield her from the men or to shield the men from her, he's not sure. 

"Julia, drop it," he murmurs and gets an offended look in response.

"Master Geralt, what they said—" she starts but Geralt interrupts her.

"Doesn't matter. Come on." He leads Julia, who's still staring daggers at the men in the tavern, to their room. 

As soon as the door closes, she deflates and steps back, avoiding his eyes. 

Geralt checks the room and, satisfied by its safety, goes to the door to leave. 

"Don't go!" There's a tinge of panic in Julia's voice as she clings to his arm. 

"I need to stable our horses. And get you something to eat."

"Oh, yeah, right..." Julia lets go, but the nervous fear doesn't leave her. 

"Lock the door, and don't open it for anyone but me, understood? I'll knock four times, two knocks and after a break another two." 

"...You'll come back? You won't just leave me here?" 

"I'll come back." 

"Yeah, okay. That's... that's good." 

Geralt comes back with food and thrusts it into Julia's hands. She opens her mouth, probably to argue but closes it just as fast. She sits on the bed and eats less than half of the food, pushing it to him in the pretence of not being hungry. 

Geralt doesn't argue. He eats most of the food, sparing the thick slice of bread and offering it back to her,

"This is for you, eat up." 

She looks at him as if trying to decide if this is some sort of test. 

"Just take it," Geralt sighs and pushes the bread in her hands. She takes it and nibbles on it. Geralt can practically see the gears turning in her head while she eats and looks at him. She does smell of fear but also nervousness, anxiety. He isn't surprised. Who would want to spend a night in the same room as a witcher? 

He's just about to reassure her he will sleep on the floor and not in the same bed as her when she opens her mouth,

"If you're going to discipline me, I would prefer if you wouldn't hit me in the face." 

Out of the things Geralt thought Julia might say, that did not even make the cut. 

"...What?" All Geralt can do is stare at the woman who looks strangely calm for someone who just asked if a witcher would strike them. She can't hide the nervous flutter of her heartbeat nor the scent of fear. 

"Well, it is your right. I didn't do as you told me. And spoke out of turn." Julia shrugs, feigning way more nonchalance than her heartbeat lets on. 

"I wouldn't hit you for that."

"Oh." Julia fidgets with the seams of her dress. "That's... that's nice."

Nice? If that's the bar for someone to be nice, it's way too fucking low. Fucking nobles.

"You're allowed to have opinions. And talk. I can't promise you'll never get hurt in my company but I don't want to hurt you." An image of Renfri lying in his arms, dying, flashes through his mind but he pushes it aside. 

Fucking nobles. 

"Go to sleep. We'll get you everything you need on the Path tomorrow." 

Geralt steps outside to let Julia change in peace. When he returns to the room, she's already fast asleep. 

The next morning, they venture into the market. Julia's eyes light up, and she grabs his hand to drag him along into the crowd. Geralt doesn't shake his hand free. It's better not to get lost. 

"Look, Master Geralt! Look at this? Isn't that the prettiest thing you have seen? What about this one? Ooh, I want to try that!" 

Just like the previous days, it's endless babble Geralt finds hard to follow, so he just listens to the tone of her voice, currently bubbling with excitement, even though Geralt is sure she has seen more exciting markets than the one they're currently in. 

"Master Geralt." She suddenly stops and looks at him. "How much money did my parents give you?" 

"You're not spending all of it here."

"That's not what I asked nor what I intend to do. Despite what you might think I'm not stupid," Julia scoffs. "So, how much?" 

He gives her the sum. 

"What?" Julia shouts out, shocked, loud enough people turn to look at the commotion. "That's it? They gave you nothing more?" 

"Why are you angry?" Geralt asks, confused. It's more money than he got in the two previous years combined. 

"That is a pittance! Some measly pocket money. Fuck that!" she hisses at him. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "So I need some clothes, right? And after that and all the important stuff, we'll still have money, yeah? Could I get some of it for myself?" 

Geralt doesn't understand the fear coming from Julia at the request. 

"It's your money." 

Julia looks at him utterly baffled and laughs, a high unbelieving giggle. 

"Master Geralt, that's not how this works. You could spend all of that any way you wish, and I guarantee you no one would bat an eye."

Fucking nobles. 

"What do you want to get?" 

"It's a secret!" Julia winks at him, but the rapid beat of her heart and the overwhelming smell of fear give her away. 

Geralt hands her the money pouch he got from her parents, but she doesn't take it. She just looks at him with those same frightened eyes from last night when he gave her the bread. He doesn't understand it. She asked for the money and now he's giving it to her. Why won't she take it? Sure, she could just run off, but who is he to judge? He would let her go and hope for the best. 

Geralt sighs. 

"What if I give you half? That should be plenty for what you need." 

"Um... okay, yeah? That's good..." 

Geralt guides them out of the main streets to a narrow alley to avoid any prying eyes. It is, after all, quite a lot of money he carries with him, no matter what Julia thinks. 

Julia doesn't take it like that. 

Julia doesn't take it like that at all, and all it takes for Geralt to realise his error is the acid smell of fear and the rapid beat of her heart. When he looks at her, she trembles as if waiting for something awful to happen. 

Fuck. 

He steps away from her, giving her space and divides the money in two. 

"This is for you." He holds out the pouch for her to take. She reaches to take it, carefully, as if it might all be a trick, and hugs the money to her chest. 

"Thank you, Master Geralt," she says, her voice so small and demure Geralt is sure if he were not a witcher he wouldn't have heard it. 

Geralt likes to think he doesn't worry over unnecessary things. But still, he finds himself trailing after Julia as she flits about the market. 

She seems to come alive, to glow in delight when she sees an instrument maker, and somewhere deep inside, Geralt wishes she could look at him with such joy. 

She manages to haggle what seems to him, based on Julia's reaction, to be a decent price for a lute and a case for it. There is an unmistakable skip in her step as she takes the instrument back to their room. She ventures back out, this time with the dress she wore when they left Lettenhove in her arms and disappears into a tailor’s shop. 

By the time she comes out, hands empty to Geralt's surprise, Geralt has managed to acquire everything he thinks she might need on the Path with him. 

"Oh, Master Geralt!" Some of her cheer seems to disappear as soon as she sees him but she tries to smile, despite the fear making her heart hammer in her chest.

"Are you hungry? Do you want to get something to eat?" Geralt asks in a silly attempt to make her feel better. Maybe she would give him a real smile if he gets her something proper to eat. 

"Yeah, that sounds lovely." The smile she gives him looks almost genuine. 

They stand by the street vendor's cart eating their food when children run past them screaming and giggling. Geralt looks carefully where they are going, stepping out of the way but Julia isn't so lucky. The kids collide with her, sending her to the ground on her bottom, the kids piled on top of her. The kids look at her, then at him, and it's like being plunged into icy water, all of them frozen, staring up at him with big terrified eyes. 

Geralt crouches next to them and nods towards Julia, "Ask the nice lady if she's okay."

The kids turn their wide eyes to Julia, and "Niceladyareyouokay?!" comes in different words from every mouth and Julia just dumbly nods. Geralt lifts the first kid out of the pile and the rest of them scramble up leaving Geralt free to give his hand to help Julia. 

Julia gives him her hand. And a bright smile, fear forgotten somewhere at the back of her mind. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, never better!" She affirms him and dusts off her skirts. Only then she notices her food, dropped to the ground, now ruined, "Oh." She sounds genuinely upset, devastated at the loss but somehow Geralt's mouth works faster than his brain.

"Wait here." 

The smile she gives him when he gives her a fresh portion of food could light the entire town. 

Back at their room, Julia seems to remember herself. Geralt can practically see her defences rise as she looks at her newly acquired instrument and then at him. 

"I know it seems silly... to... to spend money on something so... useless. But I promise I'm good at playing! And, and singing! I can earn us some coin. I'm not totally useless." 

"Hmm." He knows it's not a proper answer but what is he supposed to say? 

"The tailors will take a couple of days to finish my clothes... if that's okay..." 

"I'll see if there's a contract." 

A smile spreads on Julia's face and she takes the lute into her hands. "I need to tune her out first, but do you want to hear me play?" 

It's such an earnest request, asked with wide hopeful eyes. Geralt can't say no, and when he nods, Julia seems to vibrate, to come giddy with excitement like she can't contain herself. It's fascinating to watch. The concentrated frown on her brow, the tongue poking out of the side of her mouth. How she gets lost in the easy movements of her fingers, her actions revealing she has done this thousands of times before. He can't help but be enchanted how easily the sound seems to come pure under her skilful hands. 

It's not until she lifts her gaze to look at him he realises he's been staring. 

"Any requests?" she asks with a smile. Geralt shakes his head. He hasn't listened to music in years. All the songs he remembers have to be out of fashion by now. 

Julia hums and starts to play, quiet relaxing notes filling the air. 

And she sings.

Her voice is deep, soothing and even Geralt's untrained ears can hear she sings true, every note hitting its mark despite the uncertain waver here and there, as if it had been a while since she did this—which wouldn't make any sense. She has obviously had training. Why let it all go to waste by not using her voice? 

She looks at him after she finishes and quirks her head, "Care to give me a review? Three words or less." 

"It was. Nice." 

Julia laughs and puts the lute back into its case, "Nice? Thank you, my taciturn companion. Give me a couple of days to practice, and it'll be more than nice." 

The smile she gives him is as real as the way she flops onto the bed and closes her eyes with a sigh, relaxed despite his presence. 

"Going to take a nap. Want to join me?" she asks and pats at the bed next to her without opening her eyes. 

Geralt sits next to her, but her scent doesn't change. She's not frightened, not since she started to play. The old smell sticks to her clothes but the beat of her heart is calm enough Geralt dares to relax sitting up, leaning on the headboard. 

It's kind of nice. 

"I got salve for your bruises." 

Julia flinches but it has more to do with the fact she was just falling asleep and had been startled, rather than out of fear. 

"Oh, you brute, I have earned this nap after riding for two days," she grumbles but sits up anyway. 

"Can you put the salve on yourself, or are there bruises somewhere you can't reach?" 

"I... I think there's one on my back." Julia says carefully, avoiding his eyes. 

"Show me." 

Julia obeys him and unlaces her dress, pulling it over her head. Geralt turns his back to give her some sense of privacy, even while listening to the rustling of her clothes, the beat of her heart. She's nervous, even a little scared. When she stills he dares to look. 

Julia sits with her back to him, stiff, muscles tense, a blanket drawn around her waist to hide her hips and legs, her undershirt hugged against her chest. 

But that's not what draws Geralt's attention. Across Julia's back are several long dark bruises, some almost healed, some fresh, from just a few days ago. 

"Who did this?" Geralt asks, hands hovering over the bruises, not daring to touch. He can see Julia's jaw tense, can hear her too controlled breaths, can smell the fear and _anger_ from her, but she doesn't say anything. 

It's just like digging information out of people, he tells himself as he tries to make his voice softer, adjust his questions so he can get something out of her. 

"Are you hurt anywhere else? Thighs? Buttocks?" She's been riding for two days, if she has been hit elsewhere he needs to see, to make sure she won't be further injured. 

She shakes her head. 

"I need you to say it aloud," Geralt says, as gently as he can. He needs to know if she's lying. 

"No, just my arms and back." There is no lie in her voice and Geralt is glad for it. The bruises look like someone's attempt to keep her down, and once again Geralt is appalled by the cruelty people can show to one another, appalled at how ready Julia was to accept she deserves to be caned for something as mundane as speaking her opinion. 

"I'm going to put on the salve now." He's not sure how hard he's supposed to rub the salve in, but Julia doesn't shy away from his touch, so he takes it as doing something right. 

"Is this what you thought I would do?" He can't help but ask. 

Julia nods, a small timid but not at all hesitant nod. 

Of course she nods. 

Fucking nobles. 

Geralt treats every bruise on her back and her arms before he steps away and makes himself busy by putting the salve away so Julia can get dressed. 

"Tell me if you get injured again." Geralt says as he looks back at now dressed Julia. 

"Okay, I will," Julia concedes and offers him an uncertain smile, curling back up at the bed again. "Care for the nap now, Witcher?" 

***

Julia is giddy with excitement as soon as a message from the tailors comes to tell her clothes are ready. Geralt already caught the impression from her comments here and there that she gave her old dress to be altered into something new, but to be honest, fashion isn’t exactly his strongest suit. Still, he follows Julia into the market when she goes to pick up the finished garment. 

She steps out of the tailors, dressed in hip-hugging trousers and a matching doublet, left unlaced, the embroidered chemise visible underneath. A feathered bonnet adorns her head, highlighting the blonde curls around her face. 

"Ah, let me introduce myself again," she says and bows with a flourish, "I am Jaskier, the bard."


	2. in Which Geralt Discovers He's in Possession of a Slutty, Slutty Bard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating went up because Jaskier couldn't shut up. There was nothing I could do. 
> 
> Thank you Lizzy_the_Lizard for betaing!

"Jaskier? The bard Jaskier? The famous bard who just suddenly disappeared over a year ago, Jaskier?"

"Well, everyone needs to have a creative break every now and then!" Julia says, her voice somehow smoother and deeper, flowing like a teasing melody from her lips.

"Isn't Jaskier more..." Geralt isn't sure how to end his sentence.

"Oh, ho, ho, you aren't really suggesting what I think you're suggesting, are you?" Julia looks affronted, waving her finger in his face.

"And what is that?" Geralt asks not taking a step back no matter how much he feels like it.

"That I'm missing some important dangly bits to be a world-famous bard," Julia scoffs and waves her hand over her lap and puts her hands on her hips.

"No," Geralt lies. He looks Julia up and down, his gaze landing on her cornflower blue eyes.

Cornflower blue eyes which are almost on a level with his own.

"You're tall," he observes. How he missed it before is beyond him but the dresses she wore made her look dainty and small, unlike the masculine, albeit dandy clothes she wears now.

"Why thank you, I hadn't noticed," she answers, a sour note on her voice.

Maybe commenting on a lady's height isn't the politest thing to do.

"Let's go. We need to leave if we want to get anywhere before dark." Geralt grunts and turns away from his suddenly attractive travel companion. Better to be on their way now than never.

***

Everything goes well a month into their travels. True, they travel slower than Geralt is used to, but Julia tires easily and they have to take more breaks and stop for the night when there's still light outside.

Geralt has found a few contracts and Julia has patiently waited for him to return, enjoying performing for the eager villagers.

Her singing and playing become more certain, more joyful the more time goes by.

She does not become less afraid.

It all culminates one night after they have settled down.

Julia plays small ditties to Geralt's annoyance and it isn't until he hears a false note he realises he's frowning.

He looks up at her, surprised by the sound and finds her staring at him, her eyes wide, mouth agape like she wants to say something but doesn't have the courage to. Before he has the chance to ask, words pour from her lips in a frightened whisper.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't do that again, I'm sorry, I'll just put this away, you don't have to listen to me, it's annoying and a waste of time I know, I'm sorry-"

"Stop it!" Geralt growls and Julia's mouth snaps shut. Her breath hitches and she trembles like a leaf in the wind, looking at him like she's expecting him to do something terrible.

Which... given the bruises Geralt saw on her isn't so far fetched of.

"Fuck...!" Geralt stands up and a strong scent of fear reaches his nose. He looks at Julia, at how terrified she looks and leaves.

He leaves and she's all alone in the camp in the middle of the woods, terrified.

Fuck.

"Julia." Geralt growls when he returns. She looks up at him, her eyes red.

"Master Geralt... I can't... I can't do this..." she whispers, her voice hoarse and scared, "I'd rather you punish me now than keep up the pretence of being nice until I think I can trust you before you do it. Or leave me behind, run off and never think of me again but not this, I can't- I can't do this..."

"Julia," Geralt crouches near her, his hands visible and tries to make himself as small and non-threatening as possible but he knows it's not much. He's too inhuman, too monstrous not to frighten people.

"I am not going to hit you, do you understand?" he asks.

Julia stares at him. A high hysterical giggle escapes her lips and tears spill on her cheeks.

"Then what are you going to do?!" Julia screams. "You keep testing me and testing me and I can't... I can't..."

"I'm... not testing you," Geralt says slowly. He doesn't understand what Julia is talking about. But it's something that distresses her enough to cry and scream in the middle of the woods where it could attract something dangerous.

"Then what?! What do you want? For me to spread my legs willingly?!"

Geralt silences her by pulling her into his arms. It must be the right thing to do because she falls silent. She smells of anger and fear and sorrow but after pushing his chest for a couple of times in vain she digs her fingers into his shirt and buries her face in his chest.

Geralt feels awkward. He's so out of his depth comforting a weeping woman but he doesn't know what else to do.

"Julia, I don't want to hurt you. I want to take you someplace safe."

"But-but you're the-the Butcher of Blaviken... you killed all of those people what's stopping you from killing me too?" Julia asks, her voice small and so, so frightened.

"Is that how you see me? A mindless murderer?" Geralt asks, bitter.

"I don't know..." Julia whispers, "I don't know anything... I just... I just don't want to die...please..."

Geralt pushes his discomfort down. He's not the one forced to travel with a monster.

"I don't want to hurt you," he repeats. Maybe if he says it enough times she will believe him.

***

Oxenfurt is the perfect place for Julia. She has friends there and the city is familiar for her and if she graduated cum laude she should have no trouble finding work.

She drags him here and there, introducing her to her friends and colleagues.

"And last but not least, I want to introduce you to my very best friend in the whole wide world, Essi Daven."

Julia knocks on a door in the cheaper part of the town and it doesn't take long for a short blonde woman with only one bright blue eye visible to open.

"Jaskier! You absolute bastard!" She shouts and throws herself into Julia's arms, clinging to her like her life depends on it.

"Little Eye! I've missed you terribly," Julia mumbles into her hair and Geralt pretends he doesn't hear the slight tremble of her voice or doesn't smell the salt of her tears.

"Come in, come in! We have so much catching up to do! Where have you been?" Miss Daven tries to usher her inside but Julia holds her back.

"Actually, we still don't have any lodgings. I was able to stable our horses at The Academy but we need somewhere to stay for a few nights. I was wondering if you knew if there are any rooms available at the moment?"

"I think the madam said something about that. But come in, worry about it tomorrow. I have plenty of room for you!"

"Ah, you see, it's not just me..." Julia steps aside to reveal Geralt to Miss Daven, who looks at him surprised.

"Oh! I didn't see you there. Well, any friend of Jaskier's is welcome." She opens the door wider and looks at him curiously.

"Essi, This is Geralt of Rivia, my husband. Master Geralt, this is Essi Daven, an excellent bard and a dear friend of mine," Julia makes the introductions once they are inside and Geralt bows at Miss Daven. He doesn't miss the startled look Miss Daven gives him at his name, nor did he miss the appreciative glance she gave him before.

He looks around out of habit, finding every entry point he might have to defend as Miss Daven disappears somewhere.

Julia tugs at the sleeve of his leather jacket. When he turns to look she has a serious look in her eyes, her jaw set in a stubborn pout.

"Essi is like a little sister to me. Do not try anything with her or I'll have your balls, okay?"

A smile tugs at the corners of Geralt's lips at the serious glower Julia tries to send his way. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Don't worry, I was only checking out all the points where someone could sneak in."

"Okay, yeah, that's- that's good. Yeah." Julia nods and bites her lip, chewing at it nervously, fingers tracing at the embroidery on her sleeves.

Geralt's eyes are drawn to her slender fingers and at the beautiful flowers adorning her sleeves and he can't help but wonder, once again, how she has the skill to do that in the light of the fire at night when they have already stopped their travels. How under her hands the simple garments transform slowly into works of art with carefully chosen patterns and colours. Julia's clothes are well-made, colourful and flashy but it isn't until the embroidery is slowly added, they transform into the works of art she loves to wear.

"I still mean it," she continues, her voice a low whisper, "I've seen you walk off with ladies who have shown... interest. But she is off the limits even if she throws herself at you naked, you hear?"

Geralt is spared from answering by Miss Daven. She ushers them further into her apartment and sits them in front of a table filled with food.

"You must be hungry, eat up. I'll go get the spare bedding for you, Master Geralt, Jaskier, you can sleep in my bed." She fusses around them giving Julia plates and mugs and turns around to leave when she stops and turns back around like she suddenly came into some sort of realisation. "Oh, no, I mean you can have my bed and I'll sleep on the spare bedding, I wasn't even thinking, Jaskier, I'm so sorry-"

"Essi, it's fine," Julia interrupts her, "I'll gladly sleep next to you and Geralt can sleep in here. He gets up in an ungodly hour anyway."

"...If you're sure?"

"It's fine. Right, Master Geralt?" Julia smiles at him, her heart hammering in her chest so hard Geralt is surprised Miss Daven doesn't hear it too.

"It's fine by me," he replies politely.

After they retire Geralt can hear Julia and Miss Daven talk and talk for hours. He doesn't want to snoop so he concentrates very hard to not hear every word, every whispered secret, every word sobbed between tears.

He goes to sit outside for the rest of the night.

***

"Oh, eww it's him." Julia wrinkles her nose in a way Geralt has no right to think is cute. "Don't fall for his act, he's a fucking arsehole."

"Julcia! Darling, I haven't heard from you in so long, how is your family?"

Julia stands to greet the tall skinny man Geralt remembers seeing at The A cademy who grabs her hand in a smooth, albeit overly familiar fashion, caressing her wrist while he kisses the back of her hand.

Unease pours from Julia in waves and Geralt is just about to get up and shove the man away from her or pull Julia to himself, he's honestly not sure which one, when Julia yanks her hand back and gestures for the man to sit on the place where she just got up.

"Please, sit. Join us for a drink. I would like you to meet my _husband_ Geralt of Rivia, a witcher. M- Geralt, this is my long time friend, Valdo Marx, a troubadour."

Geralt doesn't miss the way Julia corrects herself to speak in more friendly tones to him nor does he miss how the unease he noticed before doesn't dissipate.

"A pleasure," Valdo Marx greets him with a pleasant smile and sits down.

"I'll go get us drinks," Julia says before Geralt has a chance to reply, her voice way too... cheery. It's unsettling.

"Oh, no! I couldn't possibly-!" Marx gets up and tries to grab Julia's hand again but she just laughs and steps back.

"I insist! You know how stubborn I can be!"

Nothing in her laugh is real and she quickly disappears towards the bar.

Marx looks after her like a lovesick puppy and sighs as his gaze dips below her waist, where Geralt knows her trousers hug her hips more tightly than he's comfortable with.

"Ah, she surely is something," Marx sighs as he turns back to him, totally oblivious to the sudden urge Geralt has to strangle the man. "She was the best student I ever tutored, I fell in love with her as soon as she started to play, such a talent, such a voice! Such a shame I have been bested in my own game. She would have become something exquisite if she had just agreed to my proposal. Together we would have conquered every single court in the Continent and now she's just stuck with..." Marx holds a dramatic break and gives him a, what Geralt can tell, genuine, albeit sad, smile. "I'm sure she'll write marvellous ballads for you, Master Witcher. I'm quite jealous, to be honest. But a loss is a loss and I will take mine gracefully."

Geralt has a sudden epiphany. The man isn't an arsehole like Julia said. He is in love with her.

And an idiot, Geralt has to add to the list when the man keeps giving doe eyes to Julia when she returns with their drinks. She sits next to him and Geralt has the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulders and pull her closer, just to show the idiot he needs to get lost. 

But this appears to be one of those times when Julia is all smiles and courtly etiquette at the cost of her own comfort.

"Julia?" Geralt asks and places his hand next to hers on the table. She looks at him s bit startled but shakes her head, a tiny bit of panic spiking in her scent.

"No need to be jealous of my past dalliances, I can assure you it's all in the past," she laughs and pats his hand, offering him a brilliant smile which would be dazzling if it were genuine.

Fucking nobles and their games.

"How long will you be staying in Oxenfurt? Surely you must have time for one small performance for your old friends after a creative break so long?" Marx, the oblivious idiot asks. Julia places her hand on top of Geralt's and smiles, her face pinched.

"I don't know. It all depends on my meeting with the dean tomorrow. When I graduated he told me I'd be welcome back any time I wanted and I thought now would be a good time to take that opportunity."

"Absolutely! I'll write you a letter of recommendation. And if Oxenfurt isn't what you're looking for, I'm sure there will be a place for a court musician somewhere." Marx reaches for Julia's hand over the table. It's good Julia gives him her free hand, palm up, or Geralt might just have accidentally slammed his tankard on Marx's palm.

The reassuring squeeze is accompanied by a comforting smile, Marx gives Julia, completely forgetting the presence of a grumpy witcher. "I will do anything I can to help you, you know that, right, Julcia?"

"I know, Valdo. Thank you." Julia thanks him, this time completely sincere. So this was why Julia didn't drive the man away; he has connections and influence. An important ally for finding work. Geralt still doesn't like how uncomfortable the man makes her.

"I must be on my way, I was only supposed to drop by for one small drink. Julcia, promise, you'll sing one song for me before our ways part again?" Marx offers her a charming smile Geralt is sure, if directed at him, would make him drop his pants in a heartbeat.

"Of course," Julia promises as Marx kisses her hand again.

"Take care of sweet Julcia, Master Geralt," Marx directs his sweet doe eyes at him.

"Of course I will, she's my responsibility," Geralt growls.

"Thank you. And please, do come to listen to my lectures another time as well."

Ah shite. Do the lecturers remember every student sitting in their class? He'd had time to kill when Julia was running around the University and he'd gone to listen to a few lectures, eager to learn more. Ending up in a lecture about poetry had been his attempt to learn something about Julia's craft.

"It would be my pleasure. Your lecture was very informative." Geralt inclines his head politely.

Geralt can practically feel Julia vibrate beside him as Marx walks out of the inn. As soon as the door closes she turns to him face scrunched up in displeasure.

"You went to his lecture?! I've been trying to explain the finer points of poetry to you several times but no, you have to go to the lecture of such a pompous arsehole instead of listening to me?"

"I do listen. And you were busy."

"Oh, yeah? Figures, I work hard to get myself out of your hands and you go around listening to other people recite poetry," Julia pouts and drowns her drink. "Now, I'm going to get fabulously drunk and tomorrow! Tomorrow I will conquer the academy!"

***

Julia opens the door to Miss Daven's apartment, a surprisingly sombre expression on her face. Geralt thought she'd be elated, thrilled to return to the place where she studied, where all of her friends are. But she looks at him with serious blue eyes.

"I saw a... an acquaintance today." She falls silent and fiddles with the embroidery of her sleeves. She doesn't look at him in the eyes, her eyes firmly fixed on the window.

"I can't stay here. I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, you're eager to get rid of me, I get it, who wants to drag another person along and really all I'm doing is slowing you down and causing you trouble-"

"Shut up, Julia." Geralt interrupts her nervous babble not just because it's grating his ears but because he doesn't want to hear the list of excuses falling from her lips. "Why can't you stay?"

"It's a complicated thing, really, you see I was minding my own business-"

"Julia!" Geralt barks, interrupting her again. "Get to the point."

"The point, yeah, that. I could stay but I heard from a reliable source you'd be short of a wife if I did. So I would very much prefer not to if that's not too much of a trouble."

"What did you do?" Geralt asks, suspicious. It hasn't been long and he has already seen enough cuckolded husbands to last a lifetime.

"What makes you think I did-" Julia cuts herself off and thinks for a second before she continues, her tone calming down. "Okay, yeah maybe I did anger some people I shouldn't have," the lie flows from her lips so smoothly Geralt squints his eyes at her. "I would still very much prefer staying alive."

"We will find another place for you to stay."

It's only late spring. They have plenty of time to find a court or somewhere for Julia to work at.

They do not have such luck.

The first snow came a few weeks before, alerting Geralt he needs to hurry if they are to arrive safely in Kaer Morhen. They're already in Kaedwen, travelling east along Pontar, but they need to head north, towards Ard Carraigh, where he has to make sure Jaskier is adequately equipped to travel The Killer.

Sure, she has gathered quite a wardrobe, but nothing suitable for long cold winter months in the mountains.

"Are you sure your family doesn't mind me barging in uninvited?" Jaskier asks for the umpteenth time just as they are arriving in Ard Carraigh.

"I invited you."

"Yes, but what if they don't want me there?"

"Shut up, Jaskier." It really wasn't what he should have said. He had practised in the sleepless hours of the night when he knew it was too early to wake up his sleeping companion. _You are welcome. My brothers will want you there. They will learn to care for you as I have_. When it came to actually saying those words, they stuck in his throat like monster guts, refusing to come out.

"Master Geralt, are you really sure I should tag along to the super-secret witcher keep for months? I could just... I don't know, make my way to Oxenfurt for the winter, you can collect me come spring! It's the perfect plan."

"Last time we were there I remember you telling me I'd be short of a wife if you were to stay so, no."

"Oh, yeah, there is that." Jaskier falls silent but Geralt knows from experience it won't last long. "Did I tell you when I was just about to graduate there was this gorgeous lady I had a passionate, and by passionate I mean _passionate_ , relationship with. She had the most beautiful bosom and thighs for days, a lady could get lost between them for hours."

Geralt tunes Jaskier out. He doesn't particularly want to hear about all the women she has slept with and the ones she wishes she would have slept with. It's only been half a year and he has already heard four different women claim their child is Jaskier's. Which is ridiculous, he doesn't understand why Jaskier doesn't just deny it, tell the angry husbands and fathers it's impossible ("and miss all of this free advertisement of my prowess, Master Geralt?!")

And unfortunately, like all things in Geralt's life, this is a can of worms he opened himself with one growled 'I don't care who you sleep with,' after returning early from a hunt and finding Jaskier rather preoccupied in their shared room.

"-and just as I was three fingers into her sweet pussy, a pert nipple in my mouth, her door bursts open and lo and behold! It's the Dean of The Academy! I, of course, had no idea before then who her father was and I can tell you if I hadn't been as quick on my feet as I was, I would have not graduated that year, are you listening to me, Master Geralt?"

"No," Geralt growls. "Find us a place to stay and. Do. Not. Fuck the innkeeper's daughter this time." --He gives Jaskier what he hopes is a stern look -- "or wife."

"I would never-!" Jaskier starts but deflates when Geralt gives her an unimpressed look. "One time. Just one time and you'll remind me of it _every single time_ we have to stop, don't you? Fine! I won't sleep with the innkeeper's daughter or wife but you can't stop me if the innkeeper herself is a fetching lady. I assume you'll find me on your own?"

"Hmm, I'll just follow the offended husbands."

"Offended?! I'll have you know, I have never been in Ard Carraigh in my entire life! There won't be any offended husbands!" Jaskier sputters waving a finger in his face, almost falling from her horse.

"Let's keep it that way. We have to come this way on our way back from the mountains."

"And what will you be doing while I secure our lodgings, Master Geralt?"

"I'll check if there are any contracts. I doubt it, I think at least one of my brothers has come this way before us. But we still need to get as many supplies as possible."

"Coin, coming right up!" Jaskier beams at him and slides carefully to the ground. "Don't you worry about the big grump, Pegasus, I'll get you enough sugar cubes to last the whole winter..." She continues to baby talk to the horse as she disappears to the crowd.

This is going to be a long winter.

Geralt finds Jaskier just as he promised. She's in the middle of a performance, the whole tavern up and dancing, and judging by the warm welcome, also drinking.

"The bard told me you'd be showing up. Your room is on the first floor, second to the last door on the right." The innkeeper hands him a key and he makes his way to the room.

Jaskier's things are already thrown haphazardly around the room while Geralt sets his packs neatly in one corner. He can hear the music from below, the singing, dancing. The shouts for new songs and he settles for his evening routine. Checks over everything, memorizing what he needs to get and what he has. He goes over his armour, his clothes, rations. By the time he's done the noise from downstairs has calmed down.

Still, no sign of Jaskier.

He makes his way downstairs, his steps silent on the creaking floorboards. It doesn't take long for him to find the brightly dressed bard, where she is pressed against a wall, hands flat against the wood, head turned away. In front of her is a scrawny man who smells of alcohol all the way to where Geralt is standing.

"Eh, bardling, not a bad suggestion, would make you plenty of coins too with a pretty face like that." The man touches Jaskier's face and Geralt can see every muscle in her body tense.

"I think it's time for you to retire for tonight." Geralt grabs the man's shoulder and pulls him away from Jaskier.

Jaskier looks up at him, eyes wide in surprise. She looks so young and vulnerable Geralt can't help but place himself between her and the man.

"I was having a civil conversation with the bard here!" -the man tries to go around him and reaches a hand to grab Jaskier- "so why won't you fuck off and let us finish, eh?"

Geralt doesn't even need his enhanced senses to hear Jaskier's breath hitch and before he has time to think he has the man's arm in an iron grip.

"The bard is in my company so I suggest you make yourself scarce." He smiles nastily and squeezes so hard he knows it'll hurt.

"Fuck, no need to twist your knickers, I was on my way..." the man stumbles away and Geralt has a childish urge to push him to the ground. Instead, he turns to Jaskier who is as white as a sheet.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Everything is fine." Her voice is quiet and soft, not at all low and sultry like it usually is. And she smiles.

Melitele save him how does he hate that smile.

"Upstairs, now," he grits through his teeth. Jaskier nods and grabs her lute where it sits abandoned on a nearby table and hugs it to her chest. Like it would protect her if anyone were to try anything.

He slams the door closed with much more force than necessary and locks it with the flimsy bolt the inn has bothered to put on their doors.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier starts, her voice still soft. Like it was on the first few days of their travels, soft, controlled, quiet, feminine. Not at all the low melodious tone Geralt has gotten used to in the past six months and the change is jarring. "I shouldn't have talked to him. I-"

"No, you shouldn't have! You should have pushed him off and come back here!" _come back to me_ is what he almost says.

"You're absolutely right," Jaskier nods like he'd said the world's most important thing, "I'll do that. Not that there will be a next time but I'll remember. Thank you."

She lies. Every single word which drops from her lips is a lie.

"Don't lie to me!" His hand thuds hard against the wall next to her head.

"I'm not, I wouldn't, please, believe me, I'll never do it again, please..."

Somehow, it isn't until that moment when he realises _why_ she's lying. She's only saying what she thinks he wants to hear.

"Go to sleep." He turns away from her and gives her plenty of space but the scent of fear doesn't leave, nor does the rapid beat of her heart calm down.

"Next time," he starts quietly after she has settled down under the blanket in the bed, "next time, call for me and I'll be there. Okay?" _I don't want anything to happen to you_ is left unsaid.

"Okay..." she lies.

Geralt sighs and settles down on the floor.

Jaskier falls asleep with tears on her face.

***

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Jaskier asks as they leave the last village behind.

"Yes. Now get moving," Geralt growls and urges Roach forward. She is packed high with things they'll need during the winter months and if Geralt is being honest he would have filled the back of Pegasus with food and equipment as well if the horse didn't need to carry Jaskier. Now he has packed as much as he dared to still let Jaskier ride. No need to tell her now she can't ride all the way, he'll deal with that when they'll get there.

If they get there.

It's getting alarmingly late in the autumn and while it isn't snowing at the moment, there is a little bit of snow on the ground already. He suspects there will be more the higher in the mountains they'll get.

The first half goes easily. They sleep under the evergreen trees where snow hasn't piled on the ground and travel during the day.

On the third day, they reach the narrow mountain path where it's too dangerous to keep riding.

"Geralt...!" Jaskier sounds scared. Terrified.

Geralt turns to look and finds the bard far behind him, almost lost behind a turn in the trail.

"Come on, it's not a long way until there is a safe place to rest," he shouts back as he urges Roach to move again.

"Geralt... please...!" Jaskier shouts after him, "I can't... don't leave me!"

"Just a little bit more, you can do it!" Geralt encourages her. There's nothing else he can do. Here the trail is too narrow for him to go around Roach to help her. She has to manage on her own.

Geralt reaches the resting place and tells Roach to stay put as he builds a fire. He expects Jaskier to be just around the corner but the longer it takes for her to show up the more anxiety churns his insides filling him with dread.

There is a reason why the trail is called The Killer.

He needs to find her. Now.

He walks back, slowly, hand ready on the hilt of his sword.

Jaskier shouldn't be this far behind, the trail isn't that hard to walk on. Not even for a human and the further down he goes, the more panic rises in his chest, the more guilt floods his limbs and he can feel the hand holding the sword tremble.

But what greets him when he rounds a corner is just Jaskier. Jaskier on her hands and knees, Pegasus behind her nudging her forward. He hears nothing but her ragged breaths, smells nothing but pain and misery.

Jaskier looks up. Her face is streaked with tears and before Geralt knows what he's doing he's kneeling in front of her, patting her down, looking for injuries.

"Where are you hurt?"

She doesn't answer. She looks at him, her eyes wide and throws herself into his arms, buries her face into his chest.

"You... you came back... you came back for me..." Her words are muffled in Geralt's clothes but he hears them all the same.

He should have listened when she called to him for the first time. He should have asked her what was wrong when he told her to dismount and she smelled of fear. He should have... He offers a comforting pat on her back.

Geralt pulls Jaskier up with him and places her awkwardly on her feet and looks her over once again. He doesn't smell any blood but there are countless injuries which will get you killed in the mountains that don't involve blood.

"Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah. Of course," she assures and takes a step towards him only to fall back on her knees.

"Up. We can't stay here," Geralt urges her but she shakes her head, fresh tears freezing on her cheeks. They need to get moving, the faster the better. The ledge they are on does nothing to cover them from the freezing wind howling between the mountains from the north and the longer they stay still, the more likely it is for Jaskier to freeze.

He knows humans are fragile. But knowing and experiencing it are two different things.

If Jaskier dies here it's his fault and his fault alone. He can't blame being a witcher, he can't blame any monster. All he can blame is himself.

He kneels in front of Jaskier again.

"We need to go."

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course. You go, I'll be right up. I just- I just need a minute," Jaskier nearly sobs and gets her good foot under her. Geralt grabs her under her arms and puts her on her feet. Even though the clothes she smells of fear and pain and Geralt has to do all he can to push down the anger bubbling under his skin. He can yell at her when they are safely within the walls of the keep.

He wipes the tears from her face without a word. It's dangerous to have wet skin in the cold. Aside from the obvious injury, he doesn't want to add frostbites on her face to the mix.

"Hop on," he says and turns around, kneeling on the ground so it's easier for Jaskier to climb on his back.

"I,-" Jaskier starts but takes a wary hold of his shoulder. Her hold turns firmer as she stumbles when she puts her weight on her injured leg. "I'm sorry..." she whispers into his ear.

"You can thank me when we reach the keep," Geralt grunts and adjusts her on his back. Pegasus follows behind them, her reins still firmly on Jaskier's hand.

"Do I even weigh anything to you?" Jaskier asks after Geralt passes a particularly difficult part in the path.

"No. It's like holding a couple of grapes," he grunts and carries on, the resting place just around the corner.

When he stops, Jaskier slides down from his back and falls straight on her arse in the snow. Geralt gives her once over and rekindles the fire until he's satisfied it won't die out immediately. He places unrolled bedroll on the ground and points at it.

"Sit down and take off your boot."

"I'm fine," Jaskier says, sitting stubbornly on the ground.

"Wasn't a question," Geralt grunts and lifts her and places her on the bedroll carefully, like she might break if he's too rough. Which she might.

"Master Geralt, honestly! A bit of rest and I'll be right as rain!" Jaskier protests.

Geralt pulls her boot off.

He doesn't smell any blood, which is a good sign. As he peels the few layers of socks off he doesn't feel any abnormalities either. That's good, he doesn't have to expose her bare skin to the cold more than necessary.

"Master Geralt, please don't touch my foot..." she asks with a small soft voice.

Geralt looks up at her but she doesn't look at him. She looks firmly beside her on the ground, the smell of pain and misery getting stronger as Geralt turns her ankle carefully, only a small twist of her lips showing any discomfort on the outside.

"I need to bandage this," Geralt says, swallowing the angry chastising words threatening to spill from his lips. Why did she have to be so difficult? It couldn't be that hard to tell if you sprain your ankle. Like travelling with a child.

Jaskier shivers but doesn't say anything as Geralt gathers bandages. He drops a blanket over her head before he settles to work on her foot. She wraps herself in the woollen fabric as Geralt starts to tie the bandages over her socks. He feels her shiver, feels how stiff the muscles in her calf are.

"This will stabilise your foot until you're healed. We'll reach the keep tomorrow. Until then this is all I can do." Geralt puts her layers of socks back on and gently coaxes her boot back on.

"... Thank you, Master Geralt," Jaskier whispers to Geralt's back when he turns to dig through Roach's saddlebags.

"Eat," Geralt tosses her some dried meat and scoops snow to melt in a kettle for something warm to drink. He sits on another bedroll and pulls her to sit between his legs, wrapping his cloak around them both. "I'll carry you up. Can't leave corpses for the monsters, they might start to like human flesh."

Jaskier bursts into giggles and leans against him, burying herself deeper into his warmth (human furnace, she had called him the first cold night they had shared a bedroll for warmth).

"Thank you. For not leaving me to be devoured by monsters."

***

"Welcome, Geralt. We were getting worried," Eskel greets him at the gate, clapping a strong arm on his shoulder.

"Speak for yourself, I wasn't worried!" Lambert shouts from somewhere.

"I see you brought a guest. Who is this?" Eskel asks and peers around him at Jaskier who sits on his back.

"This is Jaskier, my bard."

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me in  tumblr @frywen-bumbles, come say hi!


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